


AP Chemistry-Lab Safety 101

by ohanotherday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emergency Shower, M/M, Nudity, Safety first, seriously safety first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohanotherday/pseuds/ohanotherday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t Stiles' fault. He was the one who tried to communicate with his lab partner. He followed all the lab instructions. He wrote down all the stupid extra notes, letting Derek copy them when he asked at the last minute. And yet Stiles was the one underneath the emergency shower, skin feeling like it was on fire, which was partially true, since sulfuric acid pretty much burns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by [this video](http://ohanotherday.tumblr.com/post/35099840046/swingsetindecember-ok-we-had-to-watch-this-in) and [personal experience](http://ohanotherday.tumblr.com/post/35105816255/i-watched-this-high-school-chem-class-safety) from labs. I haven’t been in high school for awhile, but my AP chem teacher made us do actual experiments. Other classes did fun stuff like make rock candy, slime, and silly putty. We did not. We did make slime and silly putty on the last day of class though. But other than that, it was harsh preparation for university level chemistry classes and labs. But I should be thankful. It might’ve been the only class that properly prepared me for college.

As far back as Stiles could remember, he had always been in every class with Scott. Just always. It was a bit codependent if Stiles really thought about it, but it worked. Stiles didn’t plan on taking AP classes or honor classes anytime in high school. They were too time-consuming and Stiles was easily distracted. Unless of course Scott signed up for one, then yes, he would sign up and try to handle the workload. But Scott never did, and Stiles didn’t mind being in regular college prep classes. It was better that way. Stiles got to occasionally show off and hang out with Scott, who periodically let Stiles copy his homework. But they were supposed to be with each other in AP Chemistry. They both signed up for it. They just didn’t realize that they would be put in separate classes. It sucked so much. Stiles wanted to hang out with his best friend, and Scott got confused when Stiles repeated inside jokes that he had made up with someone else. But for the most part, it didn’t affect their friendship at all. If anything, it proved that distance really did make the heart grow fonder. And it gave Stiles a chance to learn without having Mr. Harris there to constantly belittle him.

Stiles looked over at his new lab partner, Derek Hale. Stiles hadn’t seen him at school in over a year—not since before the Hale fire. Derek had flunked all his classes the semester his family died, and Laura temporarily pulled him out of Beacon Hills High School, though at the time, it had appeared like Derek was already on the road to dropping out. But when Derek was sighted at school this morning, Stiles tried to gather as much news about him during his trip to the front office. He had lingered there with the excuse of needing to turn in his homeroom’s attendance, but all Stiles found out was that Derek had been in New York, apparently homeschooled while he was there. However, Stiles also managed to learn that Derek was retaking the classes he had failed. Which explained why Derek, a senior, was currently in Stiles’ class of mostly sophomores, sitting at the same lab station as him.

From the way Derek turned in his seat, practically putting up defensive walls, Stiles figured going back to Beacon Hills High School was more Laura Hale’s idea than Derek’s. She was always the more studious sibling. She was also the more popular one too. Stiles wondered if Derek even had friends here.  He used to hang out with Kate Argent, but she had graduated back in June. Before that, Stiles remembered how Derek used to sit alone at his own lunch table, ignoring people until they went away. Stiles glanced over once more at Derek. It probably sucked to have your only friend—though Kate seemed more like Derek’s girlfriend—gone. At least Stiles and Scott had each other, along with a few others, to keep them company. It was a miracle they hadn’t done anything reckless yet. They probably owed their survival to Allison Argent.

Stiles crossed his arms, leaning forward on the table to try to see Derek’s face. When Derek turned toward Stiles, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed, Stiles smiled. First step toward friendship: eye contact. Although the eye contact Derek was giving Stiles was more of the “I will murder you in your sleep” vibe, but everyone knew Stiles was the sheriff’s son. Derek couldn’t possibly be a big enough idiot to even think about trying to get inside Stiles’ room to kill him.

“So, I’m Stiles, and I guess you’re stuck with me for the remainder of the year.” Stiles raised his eyebrows while he waited for Derek to talk.

Derek, however, merely glared at him, and Stiles scooted back a bit to get out of Derek’s space. When no words had been spoken, Stiles grabbed his backpack, pulling out his lab notebook. His teacher insisted that the students handwrite all of the lab procedure in their individual notebooks, penalizing them if they didn’t. Stiles thought it was absolute hell. Seriously, it was the worst idea ever, especially when Stiles could barely make out his own handwriting. His teacher thought she was preparing the students for college, and sure, it would be great preparation if Stiles planned on being a biology or chemistry major. But he had no interest in the two. He liked the sciences, but he didn’t want to make a career out of them.

“We should start the lab. Do you want to clean out the beakers while I start the measurements?” Stiles looked up at Derek when he didn’t respond, but after a moment, Derek picked up some of the glassware and took them to the sink. Stiles tapped his chin. This was going to be a long semester if Derek refused to at least talk to him about simple lab procedures.

\---

After a couple of months, Derek and Stiles got into an easy sort of routine when it came to labs. Derek would clean the glassware while Stiles started the lab, reading out loud what needed to be done and in what order. Derek usually nodded and let Stiles take the reins. He really just wanted to be gone from here, but Laura thought Derek was having just as difficult a time in New York as he was previously having in Beacon Hills. And after training with different packs and relatives, Laura thought they should be able to come back. She called it cathartic. Derek thought it was hell.

Stiles flipped through his lab notebook, muttering steps to himself. It was irritating and starting to grate on Derek’s nerves. Derek could hear every single word Stiles was saying in that bitter tone. Their current lab was important for the next class, which would count for their midterm grade. Any progress made now would help. Derek watched as Stiles tried to figure out where their mixture went wrong. Most of the class was already packing up for lunch—half defeated, the other half smug. Derek caught Lydia shaking her head at Derek and Stiles’ lab station.

Derek wasn’t sure what was going on between those two. Stiles had mentioned about going to Winter Formal with Lydia in one of his numerous attempts at conversation, but from all Derek could gather, Stiles and Lydia were simply friends. Competitive friends. Competitive friends who both liked to rag on Jackson from time to time. And who both shared weird sexual tension with Jackson. Derek had played on the lacrosse team (and rejoined it per Laura’s request), and he couldn’t help but notice the way Jackson and Stiles bickered like some old married couple. Stiles ate most of his lunches with Scott, but it was a possibility. He saw the way Stiles and Jackson switched between hating each other and being indifferent. Maybe the two had more in common than just an interest in Lydia. Derek snapped his eyes toward Stiles, who had decided to duck under the table in an effort to locate something from his backpack.

Derek scooted closer to the lab table. He wasn’t sure what was stumping Stiles. It might’ve been just the amount of pressure Stiles was feeling under the time crunch, but Derek had listened to Stiles repeat the same steps over and over. They only needed to add the sulfuric acid, which Stiles had already measured out and covered with paraffin wax paper…which probably had gotten lost somewhere on their desk. Derek rolled his eyes, picking up loose papers until he located the 50 mL beaker. That explained why Stiles was so mad about the mixture not changing color. Derek picked up the covered beaker, easing the wax paper off before grabbing the Erlenmeyer flask. Derek tried steadying his hand, which was surprisingly difficult compared to how Stiles made it look. Derek just needed to focus and calm himself down to make sure the acid went directly into the flask.

It would’ve been a piece of cake if Stiles hadn’t hit his head against the underside of the table, jolting Derek’s hand and sending the sulfuric acid cascading down Stiles’ back. Stiles let a dozen obscenities fall from his mouth as he proceeded to yank his flannel shirt off, followed by his undershirt. For a moment, the teacher was about to yell at Stiles for disrupting the class, but before Derek could even open his mouth, Lydia piped up.

“Derek spilled sulfuric acid on him,” she said in that listless tone that made it seem like it had only been a matter of time before Derek did something like this.

The class looked at Derek as if he had done it intentionally and then looked at Stiles, who was already running toward the emergency shower and pulling the lever. While the teacher ushered the rest of the class outside, telling them to grab their backpacks and papers and that they could clean up their stations at the end of lunch, Derek stayed behind. Stiles had already kicked off his shoes, tugging at his socks now.

Stiles alternated between nervous fits of laughter and groaning as he let the water pour over him. His pants were getting soaked, and Stiles went ahead and took them off as well. He kept trying to scrub his hands over his back, turning in a circle as he attempted to soothe his skin.

"Wow,” Stiles shakily laughed, “oh fuck, wow, this freaking burns.” Stiles made eye contact with Derek, not exactly yelling at him or scolding, but pretty close. “Dude, this _fucking burns_.” Stiles twitched a bit when the cold water poured over him, trying to angle himself whenever the water wasn’t directly soothing his skin.

Derek stood there watching Stiles. He just wanted to pass the class to make Laura happy, not cause anyone physical pain. Derek tried to remove any emotion from his face, but Stiles paused in his cussing when he looked back at Derek.

“Are you okay?” Stiles walked a step toward Derek, hissing a bit at the loss of water pouring over his inflamed skin, but Derek shoved him back under the shower.

“You’re supposed to let the water flush your skin for at least fifteen minutes.” Derek gripped Stiles’ shoulders tight, not sure if easing away the pain would be the right thing to do. If he took away the pain, Stiles might not realize the sulfuric acid was still irritating his skin. Derek didn’t think he could handle any more of Stiles’ groans, but sometimes pain was necessary in order to get better.

“Oh, right.” Stiles lowered his head, and Derek took his arms off of him. Stiles tried to let out a laugh, this time more from nervousness than from pain, but ended up swallowing some water. Stiles tilted his head away from the shower and glanced back at Derek. “Sorry if I-sorry if this triggered anything. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to say it burned.”

Derek shook his head. Even without listening to his heartbeat, he knew that Stiles was genuinely sorry, but Stiles was lying when he said he didn’t mean to say it felt like he was being burned. Despite letting Stiles do most of the work in class, Derek did write up the labs too, and he had written the MSDS information about sulfuric acid. It was corrosive and could cause skin burns. When Stiles had been turning, Derek noticed that Stiles’ back had looked slightly red, but it wasn’t too bad. It was just pure luck that Stiles wore so many layers of clothing. It would’ve been better though if lab coats were mandatory.

Derek looked over Stiles’ body once more. “You’re supposed to take off all your clothing.”

Stiles blushed before shrugging and taking off his boxers. They showered often enough after lacrosse games that it didn’t really matter, but usually it was among twenty other people, not one naked person in a classroom and the other one fully dressed. Derek had already started walking back to their lab station, grabbing Stiles’ lacrosse bag and dropping it down on a table closer to the emergency shower. Stiles’ clothes were in a pathetic little pile on the floor, soaked through. Derek located a plastic bag from the supply closet and dumped the wet clothes into it.

“Th-thanks.”

Stiles’ teeth started chattering, and Derek looked up at the clock. Still eight minutes to go. Their lab station was a mess, papers strewn over it and beakers still dirty. Their mixture had almost been perfect. It was probably why Lydia had been moodily glaring at them. Derek grabbed the 50 mL beaker, filling it with the sulfuric acid from the chemical hood, and carried it back to their work station. Once it was added to their main product, Derek sealed the Erlenmeyer flask with paraffin wax paper and slid it into their drawer. He tried cleaning up their station, ignoring the way how Stiles kept eyeing him over his shoulder as Derek moved across the room.

Derek checked the windows in the doors to see if anyone was peeking inside, but the teacher had taped the windows half way up as a precaution for these particular incidents. When the water finally ran out, Stiles looked around for something to dry himself with. He had a towel inside the boys' locker room, but nothing like that in his lacrosse bag. Derek grabbed a handful of paper towels near the sink, waiting while Stiles gingerly used them to dry his body. The paper was harsh, but it wasn’t like they had anything else to use. Stiles put on a new pair of boxers—or they could’ve been used, but Stiles didn’t care, more concerned about warmth—and pulled his lacrosse shorts over them. However, Stiles eschewed his lacrosse jersey, not eager to have it be used as a huge red flag to identify him as the guy who used the emergency shower during chemistry class. But Stiles’ white t-shirt wasn’t helping with warming him up. Stiles’ skin was still damp, and the building’s air conditioning was only worsening it.

Derek pulled off his own sweatshirt, one solid shade of grey that Laura had bought from Walmart. He preferred wearing leather jackets, but Laura thought they made him seem too mysterious, as if the article of clothing promoted aloofness. She thought the sweatshirt she bought for him gave him more of an inviting persona. Stiles paused when Derek handed it to him. Their lunch period was slowly disappearing, and Derek went to grab his own backpack. He had done enough socializing for the day. Laura would just have to be pleased that he hadn’t wolfed out over the slightest things—like accidentally almost giving his lab partner second degree burns.

“Thanks!”

Derek turned back to see Stiles hauling his lacrosse bag up, Derek’s sweatshirt almost drowning him, one size too big.

Stiles smoothed down the front of the sweatshirt. “This is really warm. It’s nice after that torrential downpour of water.”

Derek kicked Stiles’ backpack toward him. “You should probably see the nurse.”

“Probably.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “But I doubt the molarity of that solution was even that strong, despite how it was deemed necessary to put it in the chemical hood.”

“You should still go.”

When Derek and Stiles exited the classroom, people were milling around the hallways, uncaring as Derek and Stiles’ shoes squeaked on the tile floor. Derek started heading toward the parking lot, but Stiles grabbed Derek’s sleeve. “Hey! You’re not going to make sure I go to the nurse?” Stiles faux glared at him. “And you’ve been so good at being concerned about my health up until now.” Derek could hear the laughter in Stiles’ voice, but he wondered if he could just leave without hurting Stiles’ feelings. He had only been concerned about not accidentally killing someone.

“I’m going home. I have better things than to babysit you.”

“You’re abandoning me in order to skip class?” Stiles’ eyes bugged out, and Derek groaned in irritation.

“Fine, hurry up, let’s go.” Derek pulled Stiles by the arm, ignoring how pleased Stiles was at the turn of events. When Derek dropped Stiles off at the nurse, he turned to leave, but of course Stiles grabbed his arm once more.

“Hey.” Stiles searched Derek’s eyes. “I know you didn’t mean to do it. My back’ll be fine. I’m just-I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. I didn’t mean it.” Stiles sighed. “Anyways, this sort of thing was bound to happen.” Stiles looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully while he bit the inside of his cheek. “Though I always assumed the first time I got in some serious altercation at school would be so much more eventful.” Stiles pursed his lips as if he was honestly upset over the fact that his first “almost died at school” incident wasn’t followed by police cars and ambulances and maybe even a fire truck. Stiles nodded his head as if he knew Derek could tell what he was thinking. “I do feel a little robbed,” Stiles sighed.

“Oh please,” Derek scoffed, angling his head back toward the door. “I doubt you could handle something even more dangerous than this.”

After a moment, Stiles let go of him. “Just make sure to be here tomorrow. I made a bet with Lydia that I could pass this class with an ‘A’ without having to switch lab partners.”

Derek smirked at that admission and nodded his head. “I’ll be there.” Before Derek left for the woods to run for awhile, he grabbed the sweatshirt Stiles was wearing—slightly pleased that Stiles was wearing it—and shoved him into the nurse’s office.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Derek pushed through the crowd. He was too old to be here, but Laura had insisted that partying with his classmates would help him socialize. He rarely talked to any of his old friends, and Laura was getting more and more anxious that they would need to go back to New York. She could handle being an older sister and looking after him, but she could barely handle being an alpha never knowing if her little brother was going to run away without telling anyone. Other people could leave their pack and find a new alpha whenever they wanted, but they were practically all they had in the world. And Laura was determined for Derek to find something in this world that would ensure he wouldn’t do anything drastic.

She had dropped him off at the party at 10 pm, demanding he stay until she picked him up. Her Camaro stuck out like a sore thumb, but she at least had been kind enough to drop him off a few houses down, though she insisted on waiting until he was inside the house before leaving.

Lydia's backyard was crammed with people to celebrate the lacrosse team’s win. Her birthday party had been the week prior, and Laura had been annoyed when he told her he didn’t go. Derek really didn’t see the issue. Lydia was younger and so were all of her friends. Derek didn’t want to be _that dude_ who just silently lurked in the corner looking like he was about to prey on unsuspecting victims. But Laura claimed that everyone in the school had been there, including some drag queens. Derek wanted to know how exactly she even knew that information, but she claimed to have a friend with younger siblings.

Apparently they were spying on Derek for her.

Derek sighed. The only reason he was at the party right now was because of his position on the lacrosse team, though he hadn't even played the last few games, opting to run in the woods instead and spending the night in his burnt down childhood home. Laura had been furious over that, yelling at Derek that when she went to the last lacrosse game of his high school career, she would expect him to at least have the decency to call and tell her if he wasn't even going to show up and play.

However, Lydia hadn’t cared whether or not Derek played at the championship game when she invited him. Derek had helped bring the team to victory last year, and that win was still firmly ingrained in everyone’s memory.

Derek took a sip of his beer, wondering why he even bothered drinking it. It would be a waste of alcohol on him. Nevertheless, he downed the rest of it and chucked the can into a trashcan.

He was almost at the back gate when someone blocked his path.

"Whoa." Stiles gripped Derek's arm while he staggered. "Freaking Matt." Stiles glared at another classmate before leaning into Derek's space. "Dude’s freaking evil. I know that was intentional," he whispered conspiratorially. “I know that was on purpose,” Stiles shouted at the back of Matt’s head.

Derek shoved Stiles off of him, but Stiles continued glaring at the back of Matt, who evidently wasn’t going to respond to Stiles’ suspicions—or apologize for that matter. "What are you doing here?"

“Do you not read the papers?” Stiles’ eyes widened before he smirked. “I was MVP.” Stiles grabbed Derek by the hand, leading him back into the house. "I know, I know, completely unexpected, but that’s what happens when everyone keeps getting injured during a game and Coach is down to the benchwarmers.” He didn’t mention Derek’s absence, but Derek felt like it was implied.

“Pick your poison." Stiles spread his arms dramatically around the kitchen while Derek eyed the cans of beer. Derek silently wondered how all of the underage teenagers managed to create this stockpile. "Whatever, fine I'll pick it for you." Stiles reached over and popped open a can of Coors. "At least it's not light. I can at least say I have _some_ standards."

“You’re sixteen. You shouldn’t have any standards,” Derek deadpanned.

That made Stiles laugh and then immediately blush. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t.” Stiles shrugged, running a hand through his hair before turning around and heading outside again. “But I can’t help it apparently,” he mumbled.

With a beer in his hand, Derek trailed after a slightly intoxicated Stiles, who leaned against a brick support beam. Even before his family died, Derek hated these sorts of parties. He didn't know who to hang out with or what to say. He had once upon a time managed to fake charm, but now it seemed pointless.

Derek chugged his can of beer when Stiles smiled at him. He wondered if he was supposed to make small talk with him. He didn't even attempt that at school. They rarely talked during class—even after the acid incident. The most words they had exchanged occurred when Stiles gave back that sweatshirt.

Derek sighed. It was probably better to at least waste his time with Stiles, who was used to him being quiet, than leave early and get yelled at by Laura.

"So the game went really well. I scored the last six goals." Stiles gave himself a pat on the back which made Derek grin. "I know, I'm amazing." He took a gulp of beer while he waited for Derek to say something. Everyone else was being overly loud, and it only magnified how stilted Derek and Stiles’ conversation was. But Derek preferred waiting in silence instead of eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation.

Eventually Stiles started talking again about anything he could remember. Derek started to zone out, but was brought back to reality when Stiles grumbled about manners and walked away. Stiles stood near Allison for a bit, murmuring to her about something that Derek didn't care to overhear. Eventually she tugged Stiles halfway across the backyard, locating Scott and leading the three of them back inside the house. Before entering the house, Scott glanced over his shoulder at Derek and glared.

Derek blinked a few times. He had never even formally introduced himself to Scott and Allison. There was literally no reason for them to act like they hated him so much. Derek turned his head, gaze flicking in a few directions before he could locate an exit. He couldn’t have been at the party for more than fifteen minutes, but perhaps he could leave now without Laura getting upset. He technically interacted with classmates, and that was what she wanted. Derek stared at his empty beer can and set it on a table.

He took his time walking through the crowd, pausing when people dancing blocked his pathway. Most immediately shuffled to the side when they noticed him, but some were much more intoxicated than others and less observant.

Derek thought back over the last few minutes, glancing around to see if there were any people watching him. Laura had said she had her friends’ younger siblings keeping tabs on him, but nobody stood out. Regardless, someone probably was watching, meaning Laura would know he left early and would want to know why he skipped out.

He honestly didn’t have a good excuse. He had tried being civil, but he definitely hadn’t done anything to warrant Stiles’ abrupt escape or Scott’s glare.

Derek opened up the back gate and took a few steps before pausing. He wondered what pathway he should take for his run when he heard the gate clang open again.

"Hey!" Stiles was out of breath, nearly tripping as he caught up to Derek. "Where are you going?"

"Home," Derek replied

"Home?" Stiles looked out into the woods, scrunching up his face. "You’re going to walk? Don't you have a ride?" Stiles’ chest was heaving as if he ran a marathon. Derek eyed him for a moment. Despite Stiles participating in lacrosse, he really wasn’t that healthy.

"It’s not that far."

"Dude, you leave in the middle of Beacon Hills, like off of Main Street in those really nice studio apartments, right?” Stiles shrugged. “I'll drive you."

Derek briefly wondered if he should be concerned that Stiles knew where he lived. "You’re drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm just slightly impaired. Here, wait while I sober up, and then I'll drive you home." Stiles stumbled over a tree root as he walked toward Derek, and then stumbled on another before Derek could reach out to catch him. "I’m still not that drunk," Stiles mumbled into the ground.

"And that's why you're lying on the dirt outside of Lydia Martin's house," Derek observed.

"Shut up and sit down next to me," Stiles ordered, flailing a hand in Derek’s general direction while he maneuvered himself onto his back. Derek kicked a few leaves at Stiles, but then he laid down as well.

Derek glanced over at Stiles. The front of Stiles’ clothes was covered in dirt. "Do you normally do this at parties?"

"You mean get drunk and force asocial classmates to talk to me right next to the woods?” Stiles squinted up at the sky. “Not usually,” he sighed. Stiles picked his head up and looked over at Derek. "Dude, I'm a sitting duck. If a mountain lion were to spot me, I’d be dinner."

"That’s highly unlikely.” Derek brushed some dirt off of Stiles’ shirt. “You're too scrawny."

"Ha ha.” Stiles bit one of his nails as he glared at Derek. “And the correct word is ‘lanky’."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "My bad." It earned a smirk from Stiles, but he simply rolled his eyes and went back to staring at the sky.

Stiles and Derek laid there for a long time, neither saying anything. The party was still going on, and the music could be heard fairly well. He listened in on conversations, switching when he started overhearing something that was meant to be a secret. He closed his eyes, wondering if he could sleep. Eventually Derek started to get anxious. It didn't make sense. The comfortable silence was too much—too intimate—and Derek sat up. He looked down at his phone. And hour had passed while he had been lying on the dirt like an idiot. Stiles shifted around on the ground, sleeping and trying to find a more comfortable position. Derek wondered how long Stiles had been doing that.

"Wait," Stiles mumbled, gripping Derek’s arm as if he knew Derek was going to try making a break for it.

Stiles sat up, a little disoriented, but his hand gripped Derek's forearm. "I know you probably hate me, but..." Stiles was too close to Derek. His eyes kept darting between Derek's lips and eyes. "Um," Stiles licked his lips once, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against Derek’s mouth. Stiles leaned away, but Derek tugged Stiles forward, kissing him hard. Stiles ended up in Derek's lap, laughing and gasping for air.

"Cool."

Derek raised an eyebrow at that. "Cool?"

"Whatever, awesome, great, fantastic. I'm a little short on oxygen." Stiles smiled as he tried to decide where to put his hands.

"Aren’t you always?"

Stiles pushed Derek back down, laughing as he kissed Derek again. Stiles seemed much more cognizant and sober than earlier but he pulled away after a few minutes. “Dude, I really have to take a piss.” He stood up and glanced at the gate leading into Lydia’s house then glanced toward the woods. “If I don’t come back in two minutes, be concerned.”

Derek frowned as Stiles headed toward the woods but he stayed put. When Stiles came back, Derek pulled him back down into his lap.

Even as the party started dying down, Stiles kept lightly grinding down on Derek. Nobody was using the back gate, meaning it must've been a successful party without any cop raids. Derek and Stiles stayed sitting on the ground—even after the music stopped—kissing until they heard the back gate clang open.

"Holy shit, Stilinski."

Stiles jumped off Derek, but he didn't bother standing up, instead awkwardly sitting on the ground while glaring at the intruder. "What the hell, Jackson? Way to be a cockblock."

Jackson laughed, tossing a bag of cans and bottles into the recycling bin. "If I had known this was already on the table, I would've let Lydia know she needed to up the bet."

"No," Stiles growled. "I'm getting an A in that class. I'm already winning the bet."

Jackson smirked as he stumbled back into the backyard. "Whatever."

Derek turned to Stiles, angry to know that some bet was going on. It reminded him a lot of Kate, and Derek was going to hurt someone if he found out this had all been done with ulterior motives in mind. "What was the bet?" Derek gritted out.

Stiles flushed in the dim light. “That I could manage to get an A in our chem class even though my lab partner sort of possibly hated me.” He shrugged. "If I lost, well then,” he coughed, “I had to declare my undying love for you in the cafeteria."

Derek didn’t say anything. There were always two sides to every bet. "And if you win?"

"Keep my dignity." Stiles ducked his head, waiting for Derek’s response, but instead of yelling or talking, Derek pressed a kiss against the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

\---

Stiles frowned once he was inside his Jeep again. Derek had begrudgingly agreed to let him drive. Stiles wasn’t drunk, but he was buzzed enough that if he got pulled over by a cop, there would be trouble. Stiles’ fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “We can’t go down the main road. There’ll be checkpoints all over there,” he sighed. Stiles tilted his head once before turning on the engine. “We’ll just go the back way.” He had explained it in detail when they were sitting outside of Lydia’s backyard, but Derek still thought it was a weird plan.

The back way involved taking a road on the peripheries of Beacon Hills and then taking a road that led back into it. It was clever, and Derek wondered just how often Stiles did this sneaking around business. But then again, Stiles’ father was the sheriff. If Derek was able to hide all of his indiscretions from his parents, Stiles was probably even better. He didn’t like to believe that strict parents created sneaky children, but he had found it was true in his own experience.

Derek hummed, not quite voicing his objection. Earlier he had told Stiles that he should just drive the Jeep, even going so far as stepping in the way between Stiles and the car door. Derek wasn’t drunk, but Stiles assumed they were both equally buzzed from alcohol. It was one of the downsides of drinking alcohol around humans; people always assumed he was simply better at pretending to be sober than others. Derek only caved when Stiles muttered something about nonexistent, overprotective boyfriends.

They hadn’t discussed what they were while they made out in the woods.

“Fine.” Stiles shut off the engine. “Fine,” he sighed. “I won’t drive.” He slumped in his chair but didn’t bother handing the keys over to Derek. 

“Want me to call my sister?”

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled. He twirled the keys in his hand while Derek made the phone call.

Laura sounded ecstatic at the prospect of picking Derek up from a high school party. Their mother had been exceptionally strict on them both when she was alive. If Laura wanted to do something, she had to be sneaky, but the stench of alcohol wasn’t something that could be easily hidden. The amount of times Laura had gotten into trouble was numerous. And the amount of time Derek spent teasing Laura for it was ridiculous. He never got caught getting in trouble, but his secrets ended up being a lot more trouble than they were worth.

“Are we dating?” Stiles blurted out.

“Uh,” Derek paused. “Well—”

“Sorry,” Stiles interrupted, waving a hand. “Never mind. It’s way too early for that. Forget I mentioned it.”

“We can,” Derek shrugged.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Can what?”

“Be dating.”

Stiles smirked and stretched over the console to kiss Derek. Light illuminated the Jeep, and they broke apart to see Laura’s Camaro coming into view.

“Wow.” Stiles gaped at the car before glancing over at Derek. “Your sister’s car is pretty amazing.”

“Whatever,” Derek grumbled.

“Come on.” Stiles unbuckled his seatbelt and waved a hand at Derek. “Before I start asking your sister about embarrassing stories.”

Derek hurried up, but before opening the Camaro passenger door, Derek briefly laced his fingers with Stiles’. “Don’t believe a word she says.” He kissed Stiles, ignoring Laura’s demand to hurry up and get in the car.

“I’ll try,” Stiles nodded solemnly, but he smirked as he slinked into backseat.

Laura quirked an eyebrow at Derek. “Who’s this?”

“My boyfriend,” Derek replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Stiles.”

“Ohh,” Laura purred. “Well, what an interesting development.” She petted Derek’s head before driving. He grimaced, knowing the onslaught of questions would be coming soon, but she just seemed happy for the present moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lag! I had a completely different ending but then I scrapped about 900 words when I realized the original ending I planned was just all bad.


End file.
